


Love is Complicated

by FieryPen37



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Anal Sex, Married Couple plus one, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Sweet/Hot, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24234949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryPen37/pseuds/FieryPen37
Summary: Destroyed by war, Raoul de Chagny finds solace with his childhood friend Christine and her husband Erik. Smut.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 25
Kudos: 73





	Love is Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure smut, and my first foray into group sex. I hope it tracks.

Love is Complicated

The sound bled through the wood and plaster and fine wallpaper where sparrows capered to torment him. Subtle noises. A rhythmic thudding. And God, that _voice_. Lucifer's silver tongue, his fallen angel's voice, whispering encouragement and praise. Hers was just as incandescently sweet, a feminine counterpoint. 

Raoul clenched his jaw hard enough to make his teeth hurt. Listening to the two of them make love night after night was so much worse than being blinded by the shine of their love during the day. Then, he could bask in its glow, absorb the warmth of it like sunlight. But at night, it became a torment.

Christine moaned, broken and low, as she did when she found her pleasure. _Fuck_. Arousal doubled him over. He couldn't help it. He fisted his throbbing cock, pleasure churning like surf. It was shameful and perverted, and yet every night Raoul found himself in the exact same position: trousers around his knees on the bed, pumping his cock in his fist with an oil-slicked phallus inside him.

Raoul strained his ears, listening. Listening. _There_! The murmur of Erik's voice, a faint wet smack as they kissed. Or it could be a thrust as Erik moved inside her silken wet heat. Raoul bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Either way it was enough to have him teetering on the edge of orgasm. He stopped his furious pumping. No, it was better when he finished when Erik did. God help him, he often imagined it was Erik's cock instead of the phallus driving deep, touching that unbearably sensitive spot inside him. Crying out as he finished. Or it was Raoul spilling his seed in Christine’s sweet cunt instead of her husband. 

Feverish, Raoul groped for the jar of oil. He'd misjudged the distance, knocking the stone jar off the bed. Watched in horror as it landed on the wood floor with a loud crash. 

"Oh _fuck_."

~

Christine stilled Erik's deliciously slow thrusts with a hand on his hard chest. Floating on a warm languid tide of pleasure, the noise had startled her. Erik's brow creased in concern. Tenderness welled up inside her at the sight of his unmasked face. One half sculpted by angels, the other a ruin of twisted muscle and puckered skin. There was a time when such vulnerability would have been unthinkable. 

"What is it, love?" he asked, and she shuddered anew at the twin assaults of his body and his voice. A voice like liquid gold, sumptuous like fur and fine wine, and a strong sleek body, his thick cock still deep inside. 

"Did you hear that?"

Faintly, another thud. Then a sound, not speech, but a voice. Erik eased off of her, scowling at the offending wall. He slid on his black silk mask that covered his face from forehead to upper lip. 

"Is it Raoul? Damn boy, I'll--" he said, sharp with irritation. Christine chuckled, staying him with a caress. She belted on her satin robe and gave her husband a lingering kiss. 

"Perhaps I should check on him. Wait for me?" she whispered with a teasing tug of his hair. Erik hummed in agreement, already idly stroking himself. A generous lover to a fault, he had yet to find his pleasure. He looked like a dark god, black hair and grey eyes and moon-pale skin. 

"Hurry back." 

Christine shivered, a fresh rush of arousal coursing through her. The glow of it sang in her veins as she padded barefoot to the next door. A gnawing worry unbalanced her ease. Since coming to stay with them several months ago, Raoul was plagued with horrid nightmares, remnants of his time in the trenches. More than once, Christine held her childhood friend and sang lullabies until he fell asleep. She knocked politely. 

"Raoul? Is that you? Are you all right in there?"

Ear close to the door, she heard some rustles and thuds. Then, unmistakably, Raoul's unsteady voice. 

"Ah yes, it's me. I'm just fine, thank you." Unconvinced, Christine twisted the knob. 

"Are you sure, I heard-- _oh_." the sentence died on her lips. A wild-eyed Raoul stood by the bed, a linen towel in one hand and a phallus in the other. The drape of his shirt didn't hide his erection, red and gleaming the wavering candlelight. His face crumpled like paper. 

" _Please_ , it's not what it looks like. I was . . . I was . . . Please don't . . .I-I'm sorry. I'll leave right this moment."

Christine's mind whirred. Reeling drunkenly first in confusion, then an equally strong secondhand embarrassment. Christine averted her eyes, blushing hotly. God, a _phallus_? The other in the chorus line whispered about such things, but for a man like Raoul to . . .

"You were . . . listening?"

Listening to her husband make love to her. _Listening_ and pleasuring himself. It should repulse her. Enrage her. And yet, the buzz of arousal within intensified. 

Raoul yanked up his trousers and fell to his knees before her, clasping her hand between his, every inch the same gallant, earnest man she knew and loved. 

"Oh God, Christine, please forgive me. I—I have no defense. It's wrong and shameful and . . . please don't tell Erik. I'll go. I'll go, right now. You'll never see my face again--"

"No."

Christine's imagination ran away with her, presenting lusciously erotic images of Raoul in bed with her and Erik. Watching. Yearning. _Touching_. She clenched her thighs around a hot, liquid ache. 

Raoul's startled blue eyes looked up at her, confused. His naked vulnerability tugged at her heart. 

"No?" he repeated. 

"Tell me. What do you do here?" 

Raoul bowed his head, a portrait of penitence. 

"Mercy, Christine. Please don't make me say it aloud. I'm ashamed."

Christine cupped his chin with her free hand and tilted his head up to meet her eye. Restless fingers stroked his strong square jaw bristling with golden stubble. She bit her lip. 

"Tell me," Christine said breathily.

A change settled over him. Gone was the cringing fear and crippling shame. His eyes flew wide and dark, his grip tightened on her captive hand. Tentatively, he nuzzled into her caressing hand. A glance down saw he was hard again. Flushed red and throbbing. 

"I—I listen to the sounds you make as Erik rouses you. The soft little sounds as he touches and kisses you. His voice—oh God, that _voice_!—I can't understand the words but I imagine he praises how beautiful you are. How he hungers for your pleasure. The thudding as the bedframe hits the wall. His thrusts. I imagine his c—cock moving inside you. Your moan when you come." 

" _Yes_. His voice is so glorious. So rich and deep. He's made me finish with just his voice and a kiss before," Christine said, dizzy with arousal.

"I know," Raoul said, almost panting, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. A film of sweat made his features stark, his attitude tense and pleading. Christine's heartbeat was loud in her ears. 

"What else? When do you c—come?" she urged. Raoul ducked his head, his jaw-length golden hair falling forward to hide his face. When he spoke, his voice was small. 

"It's best when Erik does. The heavy thud as he thrusts, the sound he makes."

"God, yes. I love that sound!" Christine said. How odd, sharing the most intimate details of the bedchamber with her childhood friend. A friend who also appeared to be in love with her husband. Lusted after him, at least. A hot, covetous feeling rose in the back of her throat. Christine curled her fingers, nails digging into the tender underside of his jaw. A soft unwillingly gasp left his lips. 

"Erik is _mine_ , you understand?" she hissed. Raoul looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. He shivered, and Christine saw his cock twitch. 

"Yes! Yes. Yours. I could never come between you."

He could not. Christine loved Erik with her whole soul. The temptation remained, ripe and sweet like a peach, to invite Raoul into their bed. There was no doubt that she wanted it, but Erik? Christine bent and breathed a soft kiss on Raoul's lips. 

"Wait for me?" she whispered. Raoul looked a little dazed, looking at her with eyes glazed with adoration. 

“Yes. Yes, I'll wait." 

Erik lay redolent on a nest of pillows in on their bed, touching himself. The lamplight washed him in a sheen of gold, a lazy smile playing on her lips. She loved this room. She loved the fireplace with bathed the room in light and warmth. She loved the forest green wallpaper. She loved best the massive canopied bed in their chosen colors of green and cream, and her adored husband naked in it.

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, my love,” he said. Christine answered with a nervous laugh. God, how would she broach the subject? She joined him in bed and Erik tugged her close, teasing open her pink satin robe. His kiss robbed her of both breath and will for several delicious minutes. Erik’s hand smoothed down her ribs, her hip, then dipped between her thighs.

“God, Christine. You’re _dripping_ ,” Erik whispered against her lips, his finger teasing the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex. Christine’s head fell back, lost in that gentle yet relentless circling, making her nerves waken and sing. Erik kissed along the line of her exposed throat, hot, sweet kisses falling like rain on parched earth.

“I spoke with Raoul. He was p—pleasuring himself while listening to us,” she blurted. Erik stilled, his jaw slack in surprise.

“He was?”

“Yes, I . . . I quite liked the thought,” she whispered, biting her lip to stopper a cry as Erik resumed his touching.

“This—” he said, with a firm press on her pearl. Christine’s vision whited out for a moment, gasping desperately for breath, “—was from thinking of that? Raoul?” Christine heard the sharp note in his voice and dug her fingernails in his thick forearm.

“Not just Raoul. Raoul in bed _with_ us. Wanting. _Begging_.”

Christine wiggled in his embrace, twining her limbs with his. Erik’s cock wasn’t the same bruising hardness as before, but neither had his arousal fled. Taking this as an encouraging sign, Christine nibbled on his chin, sharp but delicate.

“Imagine Raoul watching as you take me from behind. As I take you in my mouth. Pleading for a look, a touch. . .”

Erik hummed low in his throat, restless hands kneading her buttocks. His cock throbbed in her hand, hard and hungry.

“I have the final say. I say who does what.”

“God, yes. We both want that,” Christine said, squirming against him, needing just a glancing touch to send her over the edge . . . Erik shifted away and cupped her chin, a hard gleam in his eyes. Christine swallowed hard, melting into his touch. _I worship you._

“Not yet, my love. Fetch Raoul.”

Her legs felt weak, her thighs slick with her own nectar, and she sloppily belted the robe. Raoul was waiting at the door, a desperate, ravenous look in his summer-blue eyes. The same look of a dog left out in the cold. Christine offered her hand and—were there tears in his eyes?—Raoul took it. He was trembling as she towed him into their bedchamber.

Erik sat on the edge of the bed, naked save for his mask, washed in the gaslamp’s steady glow. The mask he removed for Christine alone. His grey eyes raked over Christine and Raoul in turn, as intimate as a touch. Erik’s cock stood thick and proud.

“Drop your robe, love,” he purred in that tone designed to seduce her. Moonlight and smoke, temptation and sweetness. Christine obeyed, tossing the robe across a nearby chair. The fire was nearly out, and her nipples pebbled in the chill. Or it could be the feel of Erik’s eyes on her, or Raoul’s. His blue gaze was unfamiliar, avid and covetous.

“Perfect. The most beautiful woman in creation. Wouldn’t you agree?” Erik said. Christine flushed under his praise, breathless with joy.

“Oh yes. You’re so beautiful, Christine,” Raoul said, his eyes wandering over her form. After a moment, Erik looked to Raoul.

“What is that?” Erik asked. Raoul shrank a little under the weight of Erik’s attention, hiding what he held in the drape of his shirt.

“What is that, _Raoul_?” His voice tasted the syllables of Raoul’s name and imbued them with layers of seduction. Raoul whimpered at the assault.

“Oil and . . . a toy,” Raoul said, revealing the jar and phallus from his room. Erik’s chin tilted speculatively.

“Oh? And how shall we play with this toy?”

“A—Any number of ways. In me . . . or Christine . . . or--”

“Perhaps later,” Erik cut in, “First, you are overdressed. Christine, help him.”

Eagerly, Christine laid her hands on Raoul’s chest. His heat embraced her through the thin layer of his shirt. Erik was much taller, with a greater breadth of muscle through the chest and torso, but Raoul’s form was pleasing in its whipcord thinness. She tugged the tails from his trousers—he hadn’t bothered to rebutton it—and smoothed it off. His skin was pale, a dusting of dark gold chest hair around his small pink nipples. A glance at his face found a look of open adoration, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Christine’s hand smoothed down his chest and belly, tracing the spring of his ribs, the jut of his hipbones, unerringly lower . . . The trousers he wore were unbuttoned. His cock was hard in her grip, the head red and slick. Raoul gasped, his hands spasming at his sides. Erik hadn’t given him permission to touch. She stroked, the other hand teasing his stones, warm and tender in her hand, delighting in his shudders and gasps. So wonderfully masculine, yet so different from Erik’s muscled thickness.

“Enough. Have mercy on the boy, my love,” Erik said, indulgence ripe in his tone. Christine grinned at him, basking in his attention. She shoved down Raoul’s trousers and he obediently stepped out of them.

“Christine, come here,” Erik said. She flew into his arms. There was a delicious possessiveness in his touch, rough and hot. Erik drew her astride his lap and guided her down on his cock in one smooth stroke. Christine cried out at the delicious intrusion. Yes, yes his thick cock was what she needed to soothe that ache inside. Erik’s hand tangled in her curly brown hair, dragging her down to kiss him as he guided her in riding him. Slow, deep strokes. The pleasure coiled tighter. _Tighter_. It was so much sweeter knowing Raoul stood there, watching.

“Erik!” Christine cried as the coil snapped and pleasure flooded her. A white-hot, clenching euphoria.

“ _Please_!” Raoul’s voice was wrecked, imploring and drew her down from where she flew. Christine looked over her shoulder and found Raoul on his knees, yanking his cock in rough, ragged strokes, eyes locked on them. Erik rolled his hips, slowing their rhythm.

“Stop.” Erik’s voice was sharp and cold. Raoul obeyed; his face contorted in agony. Erik gave her buttocks a playful smack. Christine giggled, kissing his mask-covered nose. His smile was warm and gentle.

“Up, love. I want you to kiss me. Kiss, but also _watch_.”

Even pulsing from her orgasm, Christine whimpered. Whatever he wanted, forever. She was his wife, the partner of his life and heart, but here in their bedchamber, she would also be his toy, his _plaything_.

“Come here, Raoul,” Erik said. He crawled the remaining distance, panting.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Let me, please . . . let me touch you,” he said, looking first to Christine, then Erik. The plea lit a warm fire low in her belly. Tingles shimmered through her, her fingertips, her nipples, between her thighs.

“He comes when you do. With that _toy_ inside him. I think he longs for you more than me,” Christine whispered in Erik’s ear. A look of mild horror animated Raoul’s thin, aristocratic face.

“No, not at all. I want _both_ of you. Christine, you don’t know how many times I touched myself dreaming of how you _taste_ \--”

“It _is_ exquisite,” Erik said, kissing her hand.

“What shall he do, then, my love?” Christine asked, on the bed behind Erik, kissing the back of his neck, the shell of his ear.

“If you would like a taste, come closer,” Erik said, with a coaxing gesture toward his erection. Raoul’s eyes were wide and hungry. Christine moaned, her hand sliding down to touch her throbbing pearl.

~

  
Raoul floated across the parquet floor, not believing the scope of his luck. Not only did they not banish him forever in disgust, but they invited him closer. Close enough to kiss, to touch. Erik sat on the foot of the bed like a masked king on his throne.

Christine watched his approach from over Erik's shoulder, rich brown eyes moving avidly over his body. Her hands were restless, stroking Erik's shoulders and chest. So broad and strong, marred here and there by scars. And his cock—long and thick. Perfect. He salivated for it. Yearning for the feel of that silky skin, the heat, the faint slick from Christine. God, he would treasure that forever as well, the glorious sight of her riding Erik into a paroxysm of bliss. From behind that black silk mask, Erik’s grey eyes blazed. Raoul ached, in his chest, in his balls. He needed just a touch, one quick stroke and he'd spill come all over the floor. He was moments away from begging for it. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he knelt at Erik's feet.

"You wanted a taste?" Oh God, he'd never grow accustomed to that sinful voice, pouring over him like hot wax.

"Yes. Please," he said. Erik chuckled, a warm, indulgent sound. His rough warm hand cupped Raoul's cheek.

"So polite," he said, those graceful fingers tangling in his hair. Raoul looked uncertainly to Christine. Her teeth bit into the plump softness of her lower lip and she squirmed. Oh yes, she was touching herself. Raoul's cock throbbed. Just a touch—

"Not yet, Raoul. First, _taste_ ," Erik said, tugging him closer.

Though inexperienced, Raoul made up for it in graceless eagerness. It was better than he'd imagined. Christine's musky-sweet taste was rich on his tongue. Mmm, the heavy weight of Erik's cock in his mouth. He could feel the pulse of his heartbeat. Erik's dense masculine smell filled his lungs. He licked and sucked, imagining what he himself would like. Pumping strokes, a tight rhythm.

Raoul looked up, up the lean, sweat-sheened terrain of Erik's body to his face. The mask made expression impossible to read, but his wet slack mouth and sharp little gasps urged him on. Christine watched too, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

"Oh God, yes," she whispered, with a helpless little glottal sound. She came! Just from watching. He had to—he had to . . . His hand slipped to his bone-hard cock. Fluid wept from the head. Mm, he could taste the same as he sucked Erik, a salty tang.

"Touch yourself. Come all over yourself. I want to see it," Erik said, his voice rough, though his hand was gentle, urging him to take it deeper. Raoul drooled around the heft of his cock, gagging as he tried to fit more of him in his mouth. He fisted his own cock. Pleasure spiraled up, hot and urgent. Erik cried out, his hips jerking up towards Raoul's mouth in eager little thrusts. Christine yanked her husband's face close, their kiss a messy tangle of tongues. So close . . . _yes_! It surged through him in a heady tidal wave, his seed spurting in thick white ropes, dripping from his fist onto the floor.

" _Raoul_ ," Erik groaned with one last thrust. Hot, salty semen filled his mouth. The sight and sound and taste were enough to send another blistering wave of pleasure through him. Raoul pumped his cock as he drank down Erik's issue. Even giddy and tingling from a mind-melting orgasm, Raoul's cock thickened. Erik hissed, pulling Raoul off of him with a wet pop.

"Enough, enough," he said. Christine fell into her husband's lap, kissing him with greedy abandon. Erik caught Raoul's eye and shifted Christine to face him astride his lap.

"So good. Yes, love, more!" Christine said, head thrown back to allow Erik's kisses along her throat. Erik's deft musician's hand made a show of teasing her body. Tweaking her pert nipples, grazing the inner curve of her milk-white thigh, stroking the thatch of dark brown curls covering her sex. He parted her folds, revealing that plump nub of flesh. A whimper escaped him.

"She likes it best here. With your fingers or your tongue. What do you think, love? Should Raoul taste you as well?" Erik asked.

"Yes. Whatever you want," Christine said, "I need--" Erik calmed her with a deep, languid kiss.

"I know what you need, my love. Trust me?"

"Always," she promised.

"There's little need for rousing her. Suck her pearl and watch her unravel. It's the most beautiful thing in this world."

He licked his lips, tasting a vestige of Erik's seed. Despite his command, Raoul took his time. Nuzzling that tender skin of her inner thigh, breathing in her rich musky scent. Then he sealed his lips around that nub and sucked gently. Christine seized in Erik's embrace, wailing as she found her pleasure. _Fuck_! It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen—rivaling how Erik looked when he lost himself.

Raoul gripped her thighs, prying them wider to feast more fully. He licked and sucked, greedy for more of her delicious nectar. Christine—God how he loved her. Her shy sweetness, her generosity of spirit. How easily she led his lonely soul into the lush garden of her love. There was little he had to offer her, but giving her pleasure was something tangible.

Erik crooned honey-sweet praise into her ear, kissing and petting her while Raoul sought to devour her. Played like a beloved instrument between him and her husband, Christine flew to that glorious peak again and again.

"Please stop. It's too much. It's too much," she said. Erik eased her back on the bed.

"Oh Christine, my love. You're so beautiful. I love watching you writhe. I adore you," Erik said. Christine gifted him with a tired smile. Raoul stood, feeling bereft. Surely they would dismiss him now. They all had found completion. Why not?

"Raoul, come." Erik's voice, though coaxing, still held a note of absolute command. Relief sluiced through him.

Christine and Erik absolved him of any awkward positioning by peeling apart and gesturing for him to lay between them. Raoul breathed a contented sigh as Christine drew the coverlet over them. Where was he supposed to look? Surrounded by such beauty, so much soft naked flesh! Erik lay on his side, his head pillowed on his folded elbow. The kiss-reddened bow of his lips betrayed a quirk of amusement. On his other side, Christine propped her chin on his shoulder. Yes, the delicious accidental brush of naked skin.

Christine's soft hands began a shy exploration of his body. Combing his golden hair in a fan on the pillow, ticklishly tracing the shape of his lips, smoothing down his chest and belly to his cock—which given its proximity to the people he loved and desired most in the world—was in an embarrassing state of hardness.

"Mmm. Eager for more already?" she said, chocolate brown eyes alight with mingled joy and mischief.

"Yes. Anything you want," Raoul said, arching into her cool, gentle clasp. The pleasure was soft, a whispered promise of more.

"Christine, we've been selfish, using Raoul for our pleasure," Erik said.

Raoul sputtered, quick to refute it when Erik leaned in and kissed him. His lips were warm and full, yet he could feel the delicious leashed strength of him, the rasp of his stubble on his chin. Dreamy and dazed when he pulled back, Raoul almost didn't hear him.

"Shall we make it up to him?" Erik said.

"Oh yes, love. Let's!" Christine said, swinging astride him.

"Oh God!" Raoul said, assaulted by the beauty of her. The oval of her face, those soulful dark eyes, her smiling mouth. That mane of brown curls tumbling down her back, her milky white skin, the slender lines of her. Modest breasts with small pink nipples, her soft belly, the wet kiss of sex. His hands clasped her hips instinctively.

Christine wiggled in his grip, sheathing herself on his cock with a soft sigh. A sound left him, somewhere between a whimper and a moan. God, yes! So good. Hot and silky-wet, so snug around him. _Heaven_. Heaven and glory and pleasure all tangled together. Christine gasped and rocked, subtle shivers racing through her. Raoul gulped, looking to Erik. Surely it was uncomfortable to see his wife bedding another man. . . Erik was watching with heavy-lidded eyes, his hand lazily stroking his hard cock.

"Naughty girl. What did I say?"

"You said to obey," she said and slid off Raoul. He whined at the loss of her heat and weight. At a gesture from Erik, the two of them settled at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard.

With his usual majesty of movement, Erik rose from bed and rooted among Raoul's discarded clothes for the jar of oil. Arousal was a blow winding Raoul hard and square. Oh God, what wonderful torment did he have planned?

~   
  


In a long and rather eventful life, Erik had never encountered this particular delight. Granted, before Christine, he'd never sampled the joys of flesh. When she came to him, eyes alight with curiosity and dripping nectar, a moment's rabid jealousy overtook him. And yet, Christine, the keeper of his soul since the first moment she sang to him all those years ago, there was little he wouldn't do to please her. The jealousy waned in the face of Raoul's naked need.

God, how had neither of them noticed? Raoul worshipped both Christine and himself. It was a heady thing, tasting his adoration when he was on his knees, sucking his cock like it was the sweetest confection. Something stirred deep in his chest, a feeling usually only reserved for his wife: a desire to lavish him with pleasure until he lay boneless and satiated.

Erik sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the inside of Raoul's thigh. So different from Christine's tender softness. There was lean muscle there, all with a delightful chafe of dark gold body hair.

"Now, what is it you like best, darling?" Erik said. To Erik's horror, he watched tears well in those summer blue eyes. Christine saw his distress and soothed him with crooned words, drawing him into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said thickly.

"Do you want to stop? You're free to do as you wish, if you would prefer the privacy of your own bed--"

"No!" He all but shouted, cutting Christine off.

"No," he said again, quieter, "I want to stay here with both of you. It . . . it just surprised me that you would call me 'darling.'"

Erik laughed quietly at the sentiment.

"You still wear my come on your face. I think we're past formalities, darling. The sobriquet will be only yours, hmm?"

Erik's hand moved up, his thumb smoothing the fluid weeping from the head of Raoul's cock. Erik watched in fascination as the reddened shaft visibly twitched under his touch.

"Now, darling, what is you like best?" Erik said softly.

"Anything you want," Raoul said, hands white-knuckled in fistfuls of bedclothes. Was he really so close to release already, from a glancing touch and a few whispered words? The thought sent arousal coursing hot and thick through his veins.

"Christine, we must help our darling relax. You may kiss him and touch anywhere but his cock."  
Raoul whined, already eagerly drawing Christine back astride his lap.

"As you wish my love," she said, taking Raoul's mouth in a shy, sweet kiss. Erik crawled closer, mesmerized by the give and take of it, how Raoul's hands slid over her back and buttocks with something like reverence. Christine blazed a path of kisses down Raoul's throat and chest, teasing his nipples with a hint of teeth. Raoul's eyes met his.

"Let me feel you. Please," Raoul said, his voice rough with arousal. Erik wasn't sure if Raoul meant himself or Christine, so he moved closer, swinging astride Raoul's legs behind Christine. The waft of her arousal lit a fire in him. Erik gripped her hip with one hand, lining them up with the other. One slow push seated him deep.

God, she was everything good and sweet in the world. An open, giving heart, a sharp mind, an angel’s voice, a tight delicious heat. Christine breathed a chant of his name, her mouth and hands eager on Raoul's body. Erik moved inside his wife, breath tight and short. It took some effort not to spill inside her. Not yet, not yet.

"You must be more specific, darling. What do you want?" Erik said. It was a fine line between erotic play and torture, if Raoul was any measure. He trembled under Christine's gentle ministrations, eyes wide and wild.

"I want to make love to you, Christine. I want to fill you up with my come. And I want Erik to do the same to me. All at the same time," he blurted, looking both shamed and hopeful.

Erik stilled his gentle thrusting, looking to Christine's face. Craning her neck to meet his gaze, he saw his mingled fascination and concern tangled there.

"What do you think, my love?" He asked, petting her mane of brown curls.

"I think yes. _Yes_ ," she said. God, that innocent, half-bewildered look when something roused her. Erik loved it.

Erik moved back, nonplussed. Christine sat cross-legged with that expectant look, waiting for him to muddle through his complicated feelings.

"It's fine. Let's go back to what we doing before. I'll--"

Christine stopped Raoul's panicked babble with a quick kiss.

"Be still, darling. Erik is thinking. Give him a moment," she said. Oh, how he loved her. She was tangled up in his very soul.

On the one hand, his body had some very definite opinions on riding Raoul to pounding completion, but on the other there was the not inconsequential discomfort involved.

"Won't it . . . hurt?" Erik said softly.

Raoul's expression crumbled again. Dear God, Erik knew that look well. The instinctive disbelief that any amount of love or care would be directed at him. Years of basking in Christine's love had muted that yammering voice to the occasional interjection. But Raoul, only son of a cold and commandeering father, forced to fight in a brutal war . . . his soul buckled under the crushing weight of the world's indifference. Compassion welled up within Erik.

"Answer me honestly now, darling," he said.

"Maybe a little at first. But I've been . . . the phallus has helped," he said with a charming blush.

"If you wish to slow or stop, you must tell us at once," Erik said firmly. Raoul answered with a solemn nod.

"Christine, lie back now, love. On the edge of the bed. Darling, mount her." His wife obeyed him, breath coming soft and swift, a lovely flush blotting the skin of her face and chest. Relaxed and roused. Erik bent and gave her a thorough kiss.

"The same goes for you, my love. You must tell me how you feel."

"I want this. Very much," she said, almost trembling. Dimly, Erik realized how his own heart was pounding. The body knew what the mind wrestled with.

"Darling," Erik said, tangling a hand in a fistful of Raoul's golden hair to draw him into a kiss. Rougher than Christine's petal-soft lips, bolder and so eager.

"Come, darling. Christine is lonely."

Erik watched as they kissed and touched, murmuring admiring words. From his view over Raoul's lean back, he saw the shift as he thrust in. Christine's fingernails bit into his shoulders. Their gasps of pleasure mingled and he found a slow pace.

"So hot and wet, isn't she? Mm, I love the sting of her nails. That's how you know you're riding her well," Erik purred in a voice promising pleasure and sin. Raoul groaned.

"Yes, you feel so good Christine!"

Christine was beyond words. Erik could tell by that glassy eyed look that she was close—focused inward on the building crest.

"Stop. _Wait_ ," Erik said. He smoothed a hand down Raoul's muscular back to his buttocks. Erik teased the cleft with one finger, watching him shudder. He coated his fingers thickly with oil, seeking his back entrance. Raoul arched back toward his hand, babbling words of praise and assent. Erik pressed in with first one finger, then two, thrusting gently. The heat and texture of his walls made Erik's balls ache. He took his fingers easily. Raoul threw his head back, gasping for breath.

"More, _more_! Give me your cock!" He begged. Erik gulped, fighting his own arousal.

"God, you beg so sweetly." He pumped his cock, coating it with oil. Pleasure was a deep burn, throbbing in time with his heart. He wouldn’t last long at this rate.

"Erik, please. Please, I need you. I need you both!" Christine's heavenly voice, distilled joy to his ears, sounded wrecked and hungry. _Fuck_.

He curved over Raoul's back, his feet square on the floor. Christine lay gorgeous and pliant beneath the two of them, spread like an offering. Erik mouthed the words 'I love you' to her and kissed a jagged line across Raoul's shoulder blade. He shivered under Erik's touch, feverishly lavishing Christine's breasts with kisses. The fat head of Erik's cock nudged Raoul's entrance.

"Yes yes yes, don't stop!" he begged. Erik gripped his hips and pushed in, cursing. Tight. So _tight_. Fuck! Raoul whimpered and shivered, grinding into Christine.

"Oh God," Christine said, in that low tone when she found her pleasure. So good. Erik slid in, torturously slow. Raoul squirmed, arching back toward him. Begging Erik to fuck him. It was a potent morsel to savor, the sight and smell of him hot and wild with pleasure beneath his hard hands. At last he was seated deep. Pleasure made the edges of his vision waver. Sweat slicked him. Erik sucked in sharp breaths through his teeth, arousal pouring off him. He clung to his control by his fingernails. The combination of Raoul’s tight body and the sight of Christine jarred beneath their combined thrusting was almost too much.

Together they moved and found a slow, savoring rhythm. Time seemed to warp and stretch, the three of them lost in a loop of heat, sweat and pleasure. Christine thrashed beneath the heavy strokes, mewling and crying out a tangled litany of their names. So beautiful. Raoul too, pushed and pulled between them, both used and loved by both, seemed to unravel.

"Yes yes yes, I love you. I love you _both_. Oh God, oh God . . . _Fuck_ me. Oh, I'm close. I'm so _close_!" The words spurred him on. Erik thrust harder, deeper, fighting the rising swell of his own release. Raoul's cries turned higher, sharper.

"There! Right there! Erik!" he howled. His body seized, rigid and glorious as he spent himself inside Christine. Erik grunted—Holy God he could _feel_ every pulse of Raoul's cock as he spurted.

"Erik, Raoul, oh God yes!" His wife moaned his name, bucking beneath Raoul. Overwhelmed, Erik tumbled over that peak, smote by pleasure. Erik slumped over Raoul’s back, leaving a string of love-bites on his shoulder as he moved, riding out the aftershocks. Raoul’s head fell back against Erik’s shoulder, mouth slack as he mouthed soundless words. Overcome by bliss. Erik hissed as he pulled out, watching his seed leak from Raoul’s hole. Such an arousing sight. The three of them would have to reprise this performance.

Sweaty and limp with pleasure, Erik crawled beneath the coverlet and curled around Christine. She gave him a sleepy kiss as Raoul nestled on her other side. Replete and together, they drowsed in perfect comfort. Floating, falling into contented slumber.

"I love you," Erik said. And both answered. 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?


End file.
